


Hot Pink

by Chevrolet_Charm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Devil's Traps (Supernatural), Fluff and Crack, Funny, Gen, Painting, Sigils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chevrolet_Charm/pseuds/Chevrolet_Charm
Summary: What happens if the store runs out of red paint?
Kudos: 6





	Hot Pink

**Author's Note:**

> This work puts me over 60,000 words published!

“Paint this here.” Sam handed Dean a paper with a sigil on it and pointed at the blank section on the wall. 

“Hey, I’m out.” A few minutes later, Dean shook the empty can and the plastic ball inside of it rattled hollowly. 

“This is the last can of spray paint that was in the trunk.” The screech of the spray paint leaving the can sputtered out as Dean tried to spray it again. 

There was just enough to finish the symbol Dean was trying to paint as you brushed the wall with blood from a bag. 

“There I’m finished.” You stood up and stoppered the glass bottle of blood and put the brush in a grimy plastic bag.

“Good.” Dean packed all of the painting supplies back into his duffle bag and tossed up against the wall as Sam began to chant, summoning the demon. 

A couple of hours later, you had gotten ahold of the names of the demon who holds about the mother’s deal of which her child was a by-product.

You stabbed the blade through the demon’s throat and watched the entity fade away in a flash of bright orange light. 

“Glad that’s over.” The scuff of Dean’s coat against his bag and the heavy thudding of your boots accompanied your descent down the front steps.

“Me too. Just gotta kill the other demon and we can go home.” You slid into the backseat of the Impala, exhausted by a day of interrogating townspeople. 

“I’ll stake out the vic’s house. Just to be safe.” Sam closed the door of the Impala after he chucked his books in the middle of the front seat. 

“See ya’ later Sammy.” Dean turned over the engine, and Sam briskly walked down the street towards the woman’s house. 

Dean told you to sleep in the next morning, knowing you aren’t used to the early mornings and late nights drives of the hunter lifestyle. 

You had been raised in the lifestyle as a researcher and not a field hunter by your father.

You woke up shortly after he left and fixed yourself a cup of coffee, dancing around the empty motel room. 

They came back to find you singing into the mirror as you made yourself presentable for the day. 

“Hey, we’re packing up and going out for lunch. You in?” Dean zipped his bag shut as you meet his eyes in the mirror. Your stomach growled loudly, answering for you. 

After a hefty lunch, you trundled back to the Impala for the long drive home. Dean and Sam took shifts driving, wanting to get home as fast as they could.

You cooked dinner after unpacking, and while y’all ate, Dean rattled off a list of stuff you were out of and needed the next time you made a run to the store. 

“I’ll go. Y’all stay here and relax.” You ushered them towards the comfort of the movie room and left the remote in Dean’s grasp. 

  
  
  


You wandered around the store, regretting letting Dean make the list, because nothing was organized. 

_ Bottled water,  _ can’t get dehydrated.

_ Macaroni,  _ elbows for mac n cheese, and tubes for italian night.

_ Lighter fluid,  _ Check. 

_ Ground beef,  _ 83 percent lean and 17 percent fat, just to satisfy Sam’s healthy side. 

_ Carnauba car wax, _ Baby’s a special lady.

_ Boxed Salad,  _ romaine and spinach mixed.

_ Toilet paper, _ three ply, only the best for the world’s saviors. 

_ Trash bags, _ black and unrippable. 

_ RED _ _ Spray paint, _ not possible. 

The store was out of red paint. Some geezer must have been painting their car, and bought all of it. 

You debated if the brothers would care if their devils’ trap were painted in hot pink, at least for the next few weeks. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even notice, being dudes and all. 

The cans clattered against the wire basket as you threw them down. 

You laughed to yourself as you remembered the last time you had gone shopping and bought paint with Sam, and he had said “ We should buy stock in red paint, because we use so much of it.” 

The lady at the checkout counter had given you a questioning glance that you brushed off because you knew how weird you looked. 

By the time you had driven your rickety car back to the bunker, the sun was going down and you were ready for dinner. 

Dean and Sam had fallen asleep in the movie room, screen playing in the background. Your phone’s camera clicked as you took pictures for blackmail material later. 

You cooked a microwavable sandwich and ate in the relative silence of the war room after you had put the groceries away. 

Dean wandered in a bit later, looking for a beer and a plate of bacon. Sam plopped down and the bowl of salad in his hand slid onto the table. 

“I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.” You walked out of the room, yawning and stretching your arms and popping your knuckles.

Dean finished his beer with a deep sigh and rubbed his fingers on his temples. 

“We should take a week off.” Sam watches Dean’s shoulders slump over in exhaustion. 

“And let the world end? We can’t just take a vacation.” Dean pops open another beer. 

“Just a few days. We have been running, running, running since Y/N joined up with us. She’s getting tired of not being able to relax.” Sam stole Dean’s beer and took a sip. 

“If there is nothing in the morning…” Dean looked at the clock. “Well, later in the morning… we will take a couple of days off.” Dean got up and left his beer on the table. 

“Okay.” Sam followed him a short ways, dropped his trash and headed to his own room. 

The morning rolled around far too quickly, and you woke up to the glaring numbers of your alarm clock reading 11:39. 

You could hear Sam and Dean talking softly, just down the hallway, through the open door of your room. You rolled over and wondered why they let you sleep in so late. 

As you poured creamer into your coffee Sam came in, smiling like he had a joke to tell. 

“What are we looking for today?” You put the cup to your lips and took a sip of the steaming liquid. 

“Nothing. We have the next three days off.” Sam made himself another cup and leaned against the counter, next to you. 

“How’d you swing that?” You raised your eyebrows at him. 

“Dean said last night that if there wasn’t a case, we wouldn’t go looking for anything ‘supernatural,’ at least for a couple of days. So we get a vacation.” Sam smiled at you. 

“Well then, I’m going back to bed.” Your slippers hiss on the concrete floor as you walk away. 

“Maybe later we can go out for a nice dinner, all three of us?” Sam stopped you on your way out. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” You nodded in approval. 

“See ya then.” Sam walked off in the direction of the library. 

You spent most of the day lazing around, then spent the evening eating far too much food. 

The next day was spent organizing the library’s content, yet again, for lack of anything better to do. 

The last day the three of you took a roadtrip to the nearby Clinton lake. You and Dean splashed about in the water while Sam took a short hike. 

After Dean complained about water getting in his baby, he let Sam drive back because he was the cleanest, and the driest.

You collapsed in your bed, thankful Sam had talked Dean into a few days off. They seemed more at ease and less wound up. 

A week later you were preparing to paint a sigil on the floor under a carpet. 

Y’all suspected the woman who lived here was possessed because she had been acting strange and someone in town had died earlier in the week, for no apparent reason. When you went to check the body out it smelled of sulphur, which confirmed your suspicions.

You forgot to grab the bag with the cans of paint from the trunk of the impala, and Dean went out to get them. 

You guessed he hadn’t looked at the color of the caps or that he had decided to ignore it, because he didn’t say anything to your or to Sam. 

The second option was eliminated when you heard him, from a floor below, open the bag and screech. 

Sam rushed in, gun at the ready, and body tensed, “What happened?” 

“The frickin’ paint isn’t red. It’s hot pink!” Dean shoved the can at Sam, who looked at his brother in exasperation. 

“Y/N! Come here for a moment please.” Sam shouted up the stairs, trying to keep a grin off of his face. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” You looked around the room for a sign of a struggle. 

“When you went to the store… did you read the list?” Dean faced you. 

“Yeah, of course.” You kept your straightest poker face on, knowing what Dean was talking about.

“And it said Red spray paint, correct.” Dean confirmed with Sam nodding.

“Yes.” Your lips were pursed together and you couldn’t make eye contact with either of them because you knew you would burst out laughing. 

“Then why is this Hot Pink!” Dean shook the can at you. 

“Because they were out of Red… and I got the closest thing to red.” You explained.

“Not electric blue, or lime green. No. Hot pink.” Dean frowned at you. 

“How much of it did you buy?” Sam’s eyes were crinkled at the corners trying to keep a smile off of his face. 

“The same amount we buy when we buy Red. So five cans…” You trailed off. 

There was a moment of awkward silence before Sam broke and busted out laughing. Dean just stared at him, almost as if he was in shock. Sam calmed himself down a bit, then accidentally made eye-contact with you and burst out again. 

“So we have to… use hot pink spray… for the next month or so…” Sam’s voice was cracking from laughing so hard. 

“It’s not funny. This is a serious problem.” Dean shook the can at Sam again. 

“Well, there’s no evidence that the devil’s trap HAS to be painted in red. Pink will work just as well.” You took the can from him and stepped around him. 

“But…” Dean started. 

“You lost that one, brother.” Sam clapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder with a wide smile still on his lips. 

“Hand me one of them.” Sam motioned at the bag before Dean tossed a can at him. 

After they had summoned the demon and gotten rid of it, you rubbed it in Dean’s face that your hot pink devil’s trap worked, much to his chagrin. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Im sorry its late...


End file.
